


Ain't That A Kick In The Head

by KirkyPet



Series: In Which The War Rig is a Firefly Class Freighter [2]
Category: Firefly, Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Bad Cooking, F/M, Family Feels, Fertility Issues, Friends With Benefits, Guilt, Innuendo, M/M, Redemption, Sequel, Trans Character, Trans!toast, War Rig Parents, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkyPet/pseuds/KirkyPet
Summary: Following on from Our Mister Jobassa, failed Repopulator and former assassin Jacob struggles to feel at home on Firefly-class freighter The War Rig.If anyone’s wondering, this is a character swap fic:Furiosa = Browncoat , ship’s captain (smuggler), well-meaning ne’er-do-wellMax = recently retired Repopulator, newly married to his captain after absurdly long years of misunderstandingsJacob = failed Repopulator, reluctant assassin, successful honeypot, redeemed conman, Rig hijacker and would-be murderer-by-negligenceSlit = to know him is to love to hate him. Obnoxious mercenary with a not-so-well hidden soft spot or twoCheedo = sugar sweet blackthumb with a passion for pretty dresses and rolling in the hayToast = doctor, trans man, has perpetual stick up the ass, has finally succumbed to Cheedo’s persistent charmsDag = Toast’s disconcertingly weird sister, probably a genius and definitely psychic or somethingCapable = Furiosa’s second in command, stern faced badass, takes no shitNux = Capable’s toy boy hubby, goofball pilot, big softyShepherd Giddy = needs no introduction
Relationships: Cheedo the Fragile/Toast the Knowing, Furiosa/Max Rockatansky, Slit (Mad Max)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: In Which The War Rig is a Firefly Class Freighter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868383
Kudos: 4





	Ain't That A Kick In The Head

**Author's Note:**

> I would strongly recommend you read Our Mister Jobassa first, if only for the comments which are a journey in themselves. It's a Fury Road take on Firefly episode Our Mrs Reynolds, with much additional drama thrown in for free! Cliffhangers happen! Many feels! Sexual tension abounds!
> 
> This is what happens after, to my favourite prodigal son and his unlikely squeeze.

Jacob was pretty damn talkative for a man who’d been beaten half to death and then dosed up to the eyeballs on Toast’s painkillers.

“S’rsly Max, you oughtta been there - ” he slurred, “ - way he swooped right in and scooped me up like I weren’t nothing at all. Like a big ol’ angel from the Book o’Job.”

“You was beat half to death – you barely knew what was goin’ on,” cried Slit, looking embarrassed. “Goramit, doc – what’d you give him? Can I have some?”

“Aw c’mon now, don’t be shy,” Jacob reached out and tweaked Slit’s scarred cheek, making the man grimace. “Tell you what I’m gonna do someday – I’m gonna go back there to that cliff edge and put up a big statue of you lookin’ all noble and heroic and rescuey - ”

Slit fidgeted and stood up abruptly, and shot out the door muttering something about an inventory –

Jacob blinked the one swollen eye that could blink. “Oh - hey – s’a no, then?”

“He – uh – don’t much care for statues,” Max managed, wondering if he ought to follow Slit. It’d been a while back but he’d taken a shine to that kid who’d taken the bullet for him – and it was hardly the same thing as losing your own – but Max wondered if it’d hit Slit harder than anyone had thought. Even Nux had stopped ribbing him about statues. “Gettin’ put on a pedestal, that sorta thing. Doesn’t like too much – adulation, y’know - ”

Jacob looked as sceptical as he could with his bruised and battered face. “Modest? Him? Really?”

“Oh but Slit _is_ real brave though,” Cheedo piped up. “Like back when he was hangin’ out the side of the Rig with Vera and he shot out the – y’know, that big net thing. I didn’t see it, I was too busy shittin’ my pants and tryin’ to get the _navcom_ workin’ but - ”

Max looked at Jacob and was unsurprised to see the colour draining from the young guy’s face, at least from the parts that weren’t all bloodied up. Toast noticed too and declared that the patient needed rest.

“Oh, sure – but – hey now I think about it, could you show me sometime what you did? I never did get to the bottom of it and it’s been driving me batshit crazy – what?”

“Cheedo – inappropriate?” Toast gestured impatiently at Jacob who had visibly retreated several miles into himself. “Some other time maybe? Or – I don’t know - never?”

*

That was how he felt on painkillers. Imagine how bad it was when he came off them. It was not a good time. He limped round the Rig in a fog, the banter and bickering of the crew only half-registering. It was like he wasn’t really here. He shouldn’t be here.

*

He tried. He tried so hard but with even the smallest things, there was always something in the way. Something that brought that sick guilt to his chest.

“I want to help.” Something as simple as that. It sounded fine in his head. Sincere. He’d been trying it on himself. Practicing, until he felt ready.

But out loud, in _his_ voice - ? Then it became _good little Jacob_ making his honoured wife dinner with a smile on his face and betrayal in his heart. Talking nice to the crew. Rewiring the navcom beyond all recognition - 

And he saw it in their faces. The flicker of doubt, of distrust. Or if he didn’t see it, it didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

_Would Furiosa trust a viper not to bite? Would Max? The rest of them?_

“Jacob! _Look_ at me!”

He whined in her grip and shook his head.

“Okay, don’t look at me then. Are you planning to kill us? Steal from us? Hurt us? No?”

He could meet her eye now, flinching glances that got steadier with every instant negative. 

“That’s enough for me. That enough for you, Max?”

Jacob saw Max’s terse nod and mimicked it. “Okay. Okay.” He found his feet and made it out the door.

*

Furiosa watched Jacob hobble back towards the infirmary. She looked back at Max who stood with his arms folded and his lips tight. “Boy’s not doing well. He’s gonna bolt, ain’t he?”

Max shifted resignedly. “Shuttle’s rigged up with good long-distance trackers. ‘S long as he don’t object to getting found again, we’re gonna know where he is.”

 _Yeah,_ she thought, _but what if he does?_

*

And, sure enough. Max had had his suspicions when Jacob had left the room after breakfast that morning. That smile was just a mask. Underneath, the kid was tearing himself to pieces. Why hadn’t he followed him? 

No-one had followed him, that much was evident by their reactions to the news that the shuttle was gone.

Capable looked stoical as ever but her left hand clenched into a fist. Cheedo groaned tragically and sat down, looking like she might cry. Toast bit his lip and frowned. Slit took it the worst. He turned on his heel and stormed off down the corridor. 

There was an echoing clang and the sound of the mop-bucket being kicked over. “Dust-eatin’ goddamned snake!”

*

“I can’t trust you incompetents to do it – dint even think to tell me he was gonna clear out!” Slit grumbled as he got kitted up for a landing party. “Coulda sat on him. Like to see him clearin’ out like a weasel with me _sittin’_ on him.”

“Shuttle’s ready for you, Slit,” Max’s voice came echoing from down the corridor.

“Well that’s me just about ready. Just gotta take a quick stop at the infirmary - ”

Between grappling with the manifold compressor and fielding questions from Cheedo on everything from dinner to her sex life, Furiosa hadn’t had the brainspace to properly interrogate Slit about his plan to find Jacob, let alone how to bring him back. She frowned down at the wrench she was holding. Why was he wearing his best – for want of a better word – suit? And what in Gorram did he want at the infirmary?

*

Slit straightened his string tie and pushed open the door of the shiny-seedy bar. This place weren’t no honest spit-and-sawdust establishment; this place had tarnished chrome railings round the bar and pink drinks with umbrellas in them. Slit didn’t know much about the quality – Max was his only window into that kinda life and Max himself said he was only pretending to be one of them – but he felt in his gut that this wasn’t truly fancy, just fakin’ it. You mightn’t get stabbed in the back in here, but you would be taken for everything you had in the bank.

Precisely the sort of place a person might find a pretty conman who’d seen better days.

At a nod by way of greeting from the barman, Slit leaned forward conspiratorially. “Hey, uh - I’m lookin’ for a fella – pretty face, smart mouth - ? Y’all seen anyone fittin’ that description round here?”

“If you don’t mind your pretty face bein’ shit-drunk and maudlin, there one down the end of the bar. If you got him outta here I’d be much obliged. He’s drunk all he’s gonna and he’s bringin’ down the atmosphere.”

Slit glanced that way and turned back to the barman with a broad smile. “Well if that ain’t the kinda pretty face I like best! Good health, my friend.”

The barman leaned back, looking a tad unsettled. Slit’s broad smiles did tend to have that effect on folks.

Before he had time to lose his nerve, Slit sauntered down the bar, eying the truant who sat slumped on the shiny surface staring into his empty glass. Still pretty, still in one piece, Slit noted, with a brief eyeroll. Suppose that was a good thing.

_Someone was gonna get a taste of their own medicine. Fuckin’ literally. Heh._

Slit tapped him on the shoulder. A quizzical grunt was the only reaction. He tapped again and cleared his throat. Two bleary red eyes turned and focused on him. With difficulty. They widened.

“Angel - ” he breathed, barely audible.

Slit didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the man by the back of the head and kissed him long and messily. He’d been prepared for Jacob putting up a fight before the drug kicked in, but he was _very_ drunk – drunk enough to be getting into it.

It wasn’t the worst experience for Slit either, he had to admit. Once he was fairly confident it wouldn’t be bitten off, tongue happened. Then tongues. Slit reconsidered his stance on kissing them on the mouth. It was pretty nice altogether.

About the time Slit had forgotten what he was there to do, Jacob pulled away, licked his lips, let out a long sigh and – slowly crumpled.

_Yup. That stuff works._

Slit caught him on the way down and slung him easily over his shoulders. Feeling pretty good about how that went off, he declared a cheery “G’night to y’all” and headed for the door, ignoring the funny looks from the barkeep on the way past.

And when the door-gorillas made to stop him, Slit cheerily nodded towards his drooling burden. “See my dumbass friend here? He’s had a few too many. Come to bring him home. Save you fellas a job, huh?”

They waved him on.

*

Jacob was slowly coming ‘round to the idea that he _was_ actually dead this time. He’d had one near death experience and the image that had fixed on his mind was of a very scarred and fearsome-looking angel who’d picked him up and told him he wasn’t going to die.

Sure, sure - it had been almost certainly Slit, the Rig’s man-with-the-big-guns, and probably not an angel at all.

But this time round, he’d been _kissed – practically devoured, oh God -_ by the very same divine messenger – and now there was a bright light – that had to mean it really was his time -

But then someone pulled his eyelid open and he swore. Squinting against the searing light on his retina, he flinched away.

“ - the _fuck_ \- ?”

“Hey everybody, good news! He’s not dead!” a cheery voice called out to the world at large. Jacob knew that voice and, while she had the sweet nature typically associated with the hosts of heaven – some of ‘em anyway - the little mechanic was no angel. Not by the go-to-meeting definition anyway.

He wasn’t dead. He was back on the Rig. Again. And the doc was wearing the relieved face of someone who wasn’t going to have to get the toe tags out any time soon.

Jacob groaned. He didn’t know how to feel about this. He hadn’t set out to die, at least he hadn’t made any definitive plans in that direction, but it did have a certain uncomplicated appeal.

And yeah, that had definitely been just a dream. He had most certainly not been amorously apprehended by Slit in the Cobra Lounge and carried back to the shuttle over his very broad shoulder.

The vague fuzzy memory of dangling upside down, his nose bare millimetres away from Slit’s gunbelt was a curious thing to dream but that can’t actually have happened. Jacob reasoned this from the way Slit entered the infirmary, dumped a pile of medical supplies on the end of the bed, gave Jacob a look of utter disdain, growled something indecipherable at the doc and marched out again.

Well, whoever it was who’d come and brought him back, it clearly wasn’t that guy. If there had been a vote on the matter, he had clearly voted against.

Jacob looked enquiringly back at the doc, who smiled awkwardly.

“Bit fuzzy, doc - ”

“I’ll bet you are. Don’t know what kind of dose you got, but _I_ thought you weren’t going to wake up at all.” He sighed deeply and wandered off muttering. “I’m going to have to re-test that whole batch. I knew it was a bad idea to try and replicate it, let alone go _using_ it without medical supervision – ohhhh stowing on this ship was such a bad idea - ”

*

Jacob swung his legs over the edge of the bed. _Ugh, woozy_. He’d definitely been drugged with something. Had they cooked up their own brand of the kissing drug? It had a mighty kick to it. Presumably they jabbed him with something, delivered it straight into the bloodstream.

Unless – no, that wouldn’t make _any_ sense.

He looked up as Max and Red – what was her name, Capable, that’s it – came into the room. Max who was smiling at him and Capable who wasn’t actually frowning - he figured they were of the party who voted to Go Get. He was pretty glad about that altogether.

_God, he was such a mess -_

“Hey. You’re back,” Max announced, and left it at that. Jacob hadn’t really known what to expect from that quarter under the circumstances, but a whole lot of words certainly wasn’t among them.

“Well, ‘least you’re in one piece this time,” Capable almost smirked. “Guessing you didn’t put up _too_ much of a fight. That’s something. Supper’s ready in ten if you’re hungry.”

Jacob frowned and looked up - _What, is that it? No – ? he didn’t know what - but he’d expected trouble of a kind._

“It’s Cheedo’s turn,” Max sighed, with the air of a man going to the gallows. He turned to leave whereupon the little mechanic ran smack into him. As she rebounded and righted herself, Max asked blankly, “Is the dinner bell broken?”

“Dag says I’m to give you this!” she declared, making towards Jacob and brandishing a curious device that looked like a seriously overdesigned metal cock.

Jacob received it and turned it over in his hands. “Thanks. What is it?”

Capable pointed and spluttered, “Noooo. Is that - ? _Cheedo_ \- ”

The doc groaned and hid his face in his hand. “Don’t you think we should probably talk about this? In private?”

“Yes but Dag said to give it him _now_ ,” the mechanic replied with an arch smile, as if she was laying down a winning hand. Which is appeared to be, since the little doc relented and shrugged assent.

Cheedo flashed the doc a bright smile and instantly assumed a very serious and business-like face as she turned to address Jacob.

“Jacob. What you hold in your hands is what I call The _Baby Cannon_. It’s a reusable, refillable, portable mechanical Repopulator. Trimmed down to the essentials, if you know what I mean?”

She winked with her whole face.

The doc stepped in to give his part of the pitch. “It really is quite impressive. All a Repopulator would have to do is – fill it. And give it to the recipient. The client. It’s quite easy to use.”

He blushed hotly after adding this detail, and Jacob figured that he and Cheedo had been involved in the testing process. That was a new thing, as far as he could tell. The doc had sure loosened up since the Carrion Crew incident and, if _he_ was still painfully proper, Cheedo was not. A straight-talkiner, blunter girl Jacob never had seen. He found himself wondering what a kid of theirs would turn out like. And, if he was on the right track, it looked like he might be a party to it.

Cheedo looked at him, wringing her hands. “So – whaddya say? Wanna help us see if it _really_ works?”

“Something’s burning!” Nux called from the direction of the kitchen. Cheedo clapped a hand over her mouth and darted off with a departing cry of _nooooshitshitshit the bao -_

Max fixed Jacob with the long-suffering look of a hungry man seeing the prospect of dinner fade. “I’m _really_ glad you’re back.”

*

It was a lot to process. Jacob was back on his feet after a couple of hours enforced rest, since he wasn’t beat to shit like the last time he’d woke up on this boat. But he didn’t much know what to do with himself.

He’d been effectively adopted by people he still thought of as ‘folks I tried to kill’, he was still seriously confused by Slit’s hostility juxtaposed with the lingering impression of the dream he’d had -

AND now there was this whole business with the Baby Cannon. He didn’t know whether tears or laughter were more appropriate.

If he had one solid, satisfyingly mundane thing to focus on, it was that they needed him for his cooking ability. This bao was terrible. Jacob kept chewing and tried to tune back into the conversation that was going on at the table.

It was still the Baby Cannon. Cheedo’s surprise presentation earlier had clearly revived an old topic, and now it was amplified a hundredfold. Jacob was honestly grateful for the distraction, although a little overwhelmed.

Max was asking, quietly and a little plaintively, why they hadn’t asked _him_ to supply the needful. A torrent of assurances that _they would’ve but he was just married and besides it might be a bit – weird for him_. The awkward sidelong glances suggested a delicate matter and Jacob remembered the drawings of the woman and the child, spread out on his cabin table.

But it wouldn’t be the same – and Max agreed, of course, because –

“But it wouldn’t be _mine_. I never see them as _mine_. It’s probably hard for you to understand but – I simply don’t _have_ hundreds of children spread across the galaxy – I don’t see it like that - ” he was protesting, trying to make them think like a Repopulator.

“But you don’t _live_ with them,” Capable cut in. “You don’t bring them up. That’s gotta make a huge difference, surely? We would _all_ be a family. It just didn’t seem right to ask you to put yourself through that.”

 _Yeah, she maybe had a point there. Might be a bit weird for him?_ Jacob didn’t know. Max was not the typical brand of Repopulator. But then again, he reasoned, neither was he.

Max frowned, thinking, and the Captain leaned in and squeezed his hand. But Capable and Cheedo turned to look at Jacob.

“That’s why it’s so great that _you’re_ back,” Capable beamed.

 _Because I’m not family_. _That makes sense. I could supply them and move on. Move out._

“Because, with _two_ of you,” she went on, “we would never know for sure who planted the seed.”

“A sample from both of you, unlabelled – we would pick _one_ and Fanny’s your aunt!” Cheedo declared.

_okay – that kinda makes sense? Sort of? Maybe?_

“It’d be nearly as good as anonymous. So nobody has to feel – _weird_. It’d just be a baby. _Everyone’s_ baby,” Capable concluded, with a comprehensive gesture and a wistful faraway look in her eyes.

_Oh._

“It’s just an idea,” she added, hugging her arms around herself.

“ _Or_ we could mix the donations together, pool them, make a mixed sample - ?” the doc suggested.

Slit made a face. “Ew. Ain’t doin’ that job,” he muttered.

“We’ll sleep on it,” Furiosa declared, getting to her feet. “Crew meeting 1700 hours. After duties. Single item on the agenda: Baby Cannon. Okay?”

*

But guilt would come in waves. Unexpected, brought on by the littlest things, or nothing at all. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, staring at nothing. He barely had the energy to get up and leave when Slit came in and glowered at him. He tensed a little on the battered couch but didn’t move.

“Pissbaby.”

“What?” Jacob looked up, frowning.

“You heard me. Look at you, sitting there like a little pissbaby. You gonna run off again? Boo fuckin’ hoo.” Slit mimicked rubbing his eyes with both knuckles.

“What’s your problem?” Jacob flung aside the cushion he’d been worrying at and got to his feet, suddenly fired up, his blank despair forgotten.

“Guys - ” Nux called out warningly from the far end of the rec room. “Play nice.”

“Well – what’s his problem?” He turned back to Slit, who stood with his arms folded across his chest. “You _did_ bring me back here. I know you did. You drugged me with something you stole from the doc’s stash, and everyone knows you did. So why you being such a little bitch?”

“Ooooooo,” cried Capable and Nux in unison. An audience was gathering but Jacob didn’t care, because _Slit_ clearly didn’t.

“Well? You gone all quiet? You not gonna call me a pissbaby again?”

“Pissbaby. _Mediocre pissbaby_ ,” Slit obliged, and reached forward to poke Jacob sharply in the shoulder. In a flash, Jacob had his arm twisted behind his back. “Pissb-yeeeaagh” Slit’s insult was broken off in a yelp of pain as Jacob pressed a very particular part of the shoulder joint.

“You tried to _buy_ me with your favourite gun,” Jacob hissed in Slit’s ear. “And you’re calling me mediocre?”

Slit bucked his hips back into Jacob and knocked him off balance, throwing him down on the rug, knocking the wind out of him.

He leaned down and growled, “That’s before I knew you were a - ”

Jacob’s eyes fixed on Slit’s face. Here it came. What he’d been waiting for -

_A what?_

_Whore? Murderer?_

“ – a whiny little pissbaby.”

Jacob blinked. The sudden chill subsided, a hot flush running through him in its stead. Slit grinned and offered him a hand to pull him up. Two seconds later he was flat on _his_ back.

As they grappled, Jacob heard a chorus of scrapes and bangs as the rest of the crew cleared furniture and boxes out of the way. They knew a fight was on and it was just a matter of clearing space.

*

“I’d have supposed they’d be bored by now.”

“Good stamina, credit to ‘em.”

“This isn’t a regular dick-measuring contest, is it?”

“Nope, they’re flirting. Hey, I’m getting hungry – shall we leave them to it?”

Capable sighed. “He was supposed to be making us crab fritters.”

“Well - we managed before Jacob arrived. We can manage again. Just this once.”

“Hmmm.”

*

They lay flat out on the floor, panting for breath.

Jacob might’ve been top of his class in shuai jiao but Slit was – well, he was a tough opponent. He was just so _solid_ and, more to the point, extremely stubborn. It was like trying to wear down a small mountain. You could do it, but it’d just take way too long to be worth it.

“Shall we call it a draw? I still want to _know_.”

“What?” Slit wheezed.

“Why you’re so mad at me. And don’t say pissbaby, I swear to - ”

“You’re not the only one who’s traitored,” Slit cut in, tiredly. “That’s all. You can’t keep whinin’ about it forever. It’s gettin’ old.”

“What – you? You tried to steal the Rig and kill the crew, did you?” Jacob almost sneered.

“I – sold out two of ‘em? To real bad folks. Worse than those Carrion creeps.”

Jacob frowned. “W-what happened?”

“Well, they’re still here if that’s what you’re askin’. And they don’t even know, that’s the kicker. Only the Captain knows about it, to my knowledge. Don’t know if she’s told anyone.”

Jacob let out a long breath. That’s pretty bad. The not knowing part. At least he was getting a clean wound, knowing everyone _knew_ at least. Slit’s would be like a sickness, festering.

“And you’re telling _me_ because - ?”

“’Cos I’m tired of you bein’ a pissbaby.” Slit turned his head to look at Jacob, who looked back for a long moment.

“Yeah. Okay.” He got to his feet. “Come on – lets go see how badly they’ve fucked up dinner.”

“Damn right, I’m starvin’.” Slit scrambled to his feet which promptly slid out from under him. He hit the floor with an _oof_ and a _son of a motherfucking whalefish –_

This appellation did not apply to Jacob however, who was wiping his face with his shirt and had most definitely not just kicked the feet out from under his former opponent. He was in fact innocent of this treachery which had, in fact, been caused by a slippery patch of floor.

“Owwwwww my arm’s – owwwww”

“ _Doc! Bit of help here!_ ” Jacob yelled out the door. “Shit, fuck - is it broken? Did you trip?”

“I knew it – didn’t I say one of them would get hurt?” yelled the doc over his shoulder as he came marching into the rec room all righteous elbows. “What happened?”

Slit only groaned.

Cheedo stood at the door now, looking aghast. “Did you break his _arm?_ ”

Jacob hesitated. _Had he?_

That got Slit’s attention. “Pfft. D’ya think that skinny little termite could break my arm? I slipped on his mediocre pissbaby _sweat_ is what!”

Cheedo burst out laughing and Jacob huffed a relieved and ostensibly offended expostulation. “Did he just call me a pissbaby _again_? That’s it, I’m not showing you any of those shiny moves that had you on your ass. They’re just for skinny little termites like me.”

“Oh, don’t teach Slit any of your shiny moves,” Nux chuckled. “He’ll be too dangerous. Unstoppable.”

“And don’t _you_ go joinin’ in,” Capable tugged at her man’s elbow. “We’ve got more important matters to be attendin’ to. Jacob, I need you to come and unfuck these crab fritters.”

“They ain’t lookin’ good,” Nux agreed, with a look of comical despair.

“Did you cool it down before you put the eggs in?”

Capable raised her eyebrows. “Did I what?”

Jacob groaned, but didn’t make to leave. Not yet.

“It’s not broken!” the doc declared, straightening up. “Just sprained a ligament. Put an ice pack on it and I’ll take another look at it tomorrow, see how it’s doing. Rest it for a couple of days and it’ll be fine.”

Slit grumbled, “What’m I gonna do without my right arm for a couple _days_?”

“Pissbaby,” Jacob grinned, and let himself be swept off to the kitchen by an impatient Capable and Nux.

*

“Oh my, did you see his face when Jacob got him in an armlock? Did you ever see such hearteyes?” Capable chuckled to her husband in the kitchen.

They both laughed uproariously.

“He’s in loooooove,” Nux sang.

Jacob’s face flushed to an uncomfortable heat, he knew not why.

Nux wiped his eyes. “Sorry Jakey, you’re not used to our little Rig jokes. Reason we’re laughing is that Slit – well, we’re always seeing him with those hearteyes. It’s kind of his thing. He’s all ‘I’m a big scary gruff guy’ but he’s a lil fluffbaby really.”

“He’s very susceptible,” Capable agreed. “He’ll fall head over heels at the drop of a woolly hat. Cheedo! Back me up here. Slit fell for you that time - ?”

“Oh yeah. When I fixed the firing pin on his favourite – one of his favourite guns, I forget what he calls it. Not Vera. He was _very_ troublesome for a while, bless ‘im. Couple months altogether. So don’t worry, sweetie. He won’t trouble you long. He ain’t persistent. Unlike some folks.” She side-eyed the doc who smiled smugly and slipped an arm around her waist.

“Persistence is a wonderful thing, for which I am eternally grateful,” he added, kissing her under the ear. Cheedo giggled.

Jacob felt strangely flat all of a sudden, he knew not why.

“Hell, he even trotted round like a puppy after the Captain,” Cheedo mused. “Just after you and him and Dag came back from Ariel that time - ”

The doc’s face crumpled a little bit then, but he smiled and nodded agreement.

_Hmph. Slit and the doc and his crazy sister gone to Ariel. Big Alliance medical facility on Ariel, wasn’t there?_

He probably put two and two together and came up with twelve but Jacob had a gut feeling that the doc knew pretty damn well that Slit had traitored him and his sister and seemingly hadn’t said a goddamn thing about it.

Well fuck. Just add that to the list of Things to Process. Along with Slit being a man who would fall fleetingly in love at the drop of a hat at the slightest provocation. With anyone or anything, probably, signs of life optional.

Well, it at least it meant he wouldn’t have any trouble with him, no more than anyone else in the galaxy would. That was a relief, huh?

*

When Furiosa and Max closed the door behind them that night, she doubted that they would be getting a whole lot of sleep. And not in the honeymoon way that’d been so delightfully the norm lately. Furiosa sighed. Folks always talk about the honeymoon period being over as being a bad thing. Maybe it just meant having to talk about grownup married people stuff. Like babies.

This was not a conversation she ever thought she’d be in a position to have. She remembered how she’d felt about the Baby Cannon the first time Cheedo had brought it up. But oh – Max was _gone_ then and she never thought she’d see him again. Now he was here – he was _hers_ – as much as a person can belong to another. And her feelings were so very different.

She just had to stay calm. Sure, this was a galaxy-changing moment but, right now, at its very beginning, it was a matter of _family_.

She had spoken of Angharad to him before. Her second in command, her sister in arms. Hers and Capable’s. While Furiosa had been deemed infertile and speedily dispatched to Hera’s men’s camp for a different kind of hard labour, Angharad and Capable were ‘test subjects’ for prospective Breeders. She hadn’t elaborated – she could see how the very idea of it, even as an abstract idea, hurt Max – but he knew the bare bones of the matter. How Furiosa and Ace had cooked up a rebellion, an escape from the men’s camp. How Furiosa had kept her real plan secret and had betrayed Ace at the last minute to free her sisters. Ace had raged in later times how she hadn’t trusted him with her part of the plan, how they’d been on very shaky relations ever since.

How Angharad had fallen at the last, her – _their_ – unborn baby with her.

It would have been their baby, hers and Angharad’s and Capable’s. It would have been the whole crew’s child. Angharad was gone, but Capable was here. And Cheedo, their newest youngest sister.

She didn’t have to remind him of any of this. She didn’t have to say a word. He could see it all in her eyes as she turned to look at him. He just nodded and said ‘yes’ and kissed away the silent tears that rolled down her cheeks.

*

“Right. So - who here wants a baby?”

Cheedo’s hand shot up. Capable’s likewise. And Slit raised a tentative hand.

“Slit - ?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I want a baby? They’re funny little critters.”

“I’ll rephrase the question. Who here wants to get _pregnant_?”

Slit’s hand dropped.

“We do appreciate your support, however. Plenty of shitty diapers. Night feeds,” Capable added, pointedly.

Slit puffed out his scarred cheeks and looked away. “Huh, par for the course. Everyone shits. _I’ll_ teach the rugrat to wipe his own butt soon enough.”

*

“So, will you be needing a hand?” the Captain asked Max with a suggestive eyebrow.

“Don’t need that image right now!” Nux mumbled, sauntering past with his bowl of cereal.

Max failed to suppress a smile and he ushered his good lady into their quarters with a flourish. Well, they were gonna have a good time, it seemed. Shame _some_ people have to take care of themselves. Unless –

Jacob aimed his most salacious look at Slit, who stopped chewing a lump of bread and raised his eyebrows enquiringly. A faint blush crept over his bald head.

“I, too, would value some assistance.”

“Uh – you need me to hold the cup or something?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of – well, you’re a reasonably good kisser - ”

Slit bristled. “I’m the best damn kisser in the galaxy, you ask anyone!”

“It just got me wondering – what _else_ are you reasonably good at? Perhaps you’d care to show me?”

“Goddamn right I will. _Reasonably_ good _– pfft_ ” he snorted and marched into his quarters towing a grinning Jacob behind him.

But once he got in there and the door slammed behind them, all his bravado melted away. “So, whaddya want me to do?” he asked, nervously.

Jacob smirked. “I want you to fuck me.”

*

Max, sample cup in hand, kissed Furiosa by the door.

“Thanks for doing this,” she murmured.

“Thanks for letting me do this,” was his reply.

Pulling away reluctantly, he closed the door behind him and turned to see Jacob emerge from – Slit’s room? – buckling his belt with one hand and clutching an identical sample pot in the other. He fixed Max with a sleepy and extremely satisfied grin.

Approaching him, Max glanced in the door to see Slit – flat out on his back, pants tangled round his ankles, snoring the sleep of the recently-fornicated. Max closed the door quietly on the sleeping figure. It wasn’t a sight for the girls.

“Slit, huh?”

“Hey. That guy. I’m impressed. Who knew?” Jacob wasn’t quite done grinning. “But it makes sense. Hands-free, right? Just tape the cup on, and you’re good to go. Glamorous assistant does the rest - ”

Oh God.

Well, that made a whole lotta sense, practically speaking. He and Furiosa had had a hell of time – doubt half the stuff actually made it into the cup. He squinted at his sample pot and glanced at Jacob’s.

Huh.

“Y’see? Makes good sense.”

Max was soon distracted, none too soon, from the matter of Slit and Jacob’s hook-up by the sudden and very clear mental image of Furiosa wearing a strap-on. He unfocused for a moment. Well, they say necessity breeds invention. Wonder what she’d say to it? Wonder where they’d _get_ one at this time of night?

He actually walked into Toast’s door.

_Thud_

“I usually knock, but everyone’s different.” Jacob smiled broadly as the doc opened the door. “Express delivery!”

Toast nodded his thanks and carefully took the two jars. Jacob turned about and made his way towards his bunk in the infirmary.

“G’night!” he saluted without looking back.

“’Night!” Max called out distractedly and hurried off for a consultation with his lady wife.

*

“Hey, if it helps, I’m more than happy to oblige.” Furiosa entirely failed to suppress a huge smirk that brought out Max’s favourite dimple. Unfortunately his mouth acted faster than his brain inasmuch as the next words that came out of it were –

“That’s probably what Slit said to Jacob - ”

Her dimple disappeared, replaced by a grimace but also a laugh which was highly acceptable.

“That – no – that is not an image that I need,” she doubled over with silent mirth. “What do you think’s really going on there? Should we be worried? Oh, these kids – ”

Max thought for a moment. “You know what Slit’s like – he _thinks_ he’d get wed like a shot if anyone would have him, but his attention span is just – not there. And Jacob – well, he really didn’t understand why I wanted to get back to the Rig _quite_ as badly as I did. I don’t think he understands monogamy? It _is_ a tricky thing for a Repopulator to grasp. I’m pretty weird, y’know?”

“And I love you for it,” she kissed him lingeringly. “So - do you think they’re just looking for a no-strings bunk-up? I mean, they’re _going_ to do it again. It’s a small Rig.”

“You’re worried there’ll be fallout?”

“Hmmm. Probably not. I’d hate to see either of them get hurt is all.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Max murmured, his lips pressed to her temple. He wondered how they’d ended up becoming Rig Mom and Dad for these ragtag kids, and whether it made him feel absurdly old –

“So – what about this strap-on then?” Furiosa ran a metal finger up his stomach, making him gasp. “I think I know a place nearby not a _million_ AUs from here - ”

*

“I simply cannot believe you two are the same age. In fact, _you’re_ a month and a half older, Jacob!” Toast laughed and scrubbed a hand through his hair to reflect the sheer level of his incredulity.

Cheedo was six weeks pregnant and Toast was celebrating by updating his medical files.

Jacob shot a smile at Slit, who smirked. It was true, Jacob was ridiculously fresh-faced, while Slit was – lived in. Jacob could attest to that in full by now, having seen most of him. His chest scars were like a roadmap. Jacob would happily dedicate hours to tracking them, if he could justify it from a business point of view.

For that’s what they had now. A fledgling business arrangement.

The two of them had several business consultations after the Baby Cannon’s first proper test run. In the kitchen. In the rec room. On the bridge. The crew collectively said that they grateful they were the kind of meeting were both parties kept their pants on. But of course – they weren’t _animals_. It was to be a purely business relationship, after all.

The had agreed that the test run had been such a success that they would be crazy not to replicate the process for Capable. And for any non-Rig clients after that. _Paying_ clients.

As Jacob told Max later that day: “I’ve offered him a ten percent cut of my side of the profits. He wanted twenty but I said _I’m the one who’ll have to quit drinking_ and that shut him up pretty quick, I can tell you.”

“Is that why he’s fussing round you like a mother hen? Giving you fruit and green leafy veggies and suchlike?”

“Hey, he’s protecting his investment. My lil swimmers are gonna get just as much care and attention as his guns, I reckon.”

“It’s an – interesting – relationship,” Max nodded.

“Business, business. Well, mainly business. Gotta see how it takes, see if they run to term. Then we can start sellin’ our wares.” Jacob raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Max shifted in his seat. “I – I’m not really in it for the money. Strictly _pro bono_. Besides, as the doc said, I’ve probably hit my quota by now. _You_ however – you have lost time to make up for. Sorry the pay’s not gonna be what you’d signed up for.”

“You know what I signed up for did _not_ work for me.” Jacob gave a mock toast with his cup of wholesome warm spiced milk. “I’m happy to do it this way. Very.”

*

Cheedo lay on the sofa, her feet in Toast’s lap being carefully rubbed. “It’s going to be the whole Rig’s baby, right? So I’d like everyone to be there at the birth. Everyone as _wants_ to be there, anyway.”

“I just want you to be really sure, sweetie. Childbirth puts a huge strain on your body – I’m just saying, there’ll be things you might not want your friends and – colleagues – to see.”

Cheedo thought for a moment. “You can kick them out for me if I want you to, yeah?’

“Of course.”

“I’m so glad her daddy’s a doctor,” she smiled, placing her palms on her swelling belly. “It’s real handy.”

Toast took a few deep breaths in through his nose and tried not to be anxious. Halfway there, so far so good. He tried to remind himself that he was only the father, the doctor, the midwife, the OG – it was Cheedo and now Capable too that would hopefully be doing the hard part. But – deep breaths, slow breaths.

*

Both births were largely uneventful – yes, Capable threw a massive curve ball by showing two babies on her ultrasound instead of one – mothers and babies doing well and only one of the Three Stupid Men, as Capable dubbed them, actually fainted during a delivery.

Max had come good on that bet. He was the only one who put money on _Jacob_ to be the one to hit the deck. Nux and Slit literally cheered Cheedo on during the whole ten-hour labour, which seemed to do her good, believe it or not.

And now that their product was proved viable and the hardware sound, Jacob and his business partner were doing a roaring trade in locked and loaded Baby Cannons.

“Slit’s lookin’ awful smug these days,” Nux observed one day, as he juggled his two red-haired babies. “Ain’t he now, my liddle goslings? Huh? You see that funny man? Struttin’ around like a big ‘ol silly billionaire?”

Ginger Girl Baby flapped her arms vigorously as if she really was planning to fly someday and was getting in practice early. Gonna be a pilot, just like her daddy, Jacob thought with no small satisfaction.

“He’s a man of means now,” observed the doctor dryly. “Got a stake in a Repopulator.”

Everyone stared at him. Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. These people were just the _worst_ -

“That’s gotta be the first smutty joke come outta your mouth since you got here,” cried Nux, playfully putting his hands over Ginger Boy Baby’s ears. “I’m real proud of you, doc!”

The doc looked confused, then raised an admonishing finger, his face cracking into a smile despite efforts. “I did not mean that! And you’re losing your touch, my mercenary friend,” addressing Slit. “Time was you’d have made that joke yourself by now. _On purpose_ , too.”

Slit merely grinned and looked wise.

“Slit _is_ gettin’ awful well-behaved these days, ain’t he? I was just sayin’ the other day.” Cheedo observed, coming in carrying little Petunia who crowed and put out her chubby arms to _her_ dad who received her with a lot more baby-talk than Jacob thought the doc was capable of.

“Your man’s makin’ smutty jokes, Cheed,” he muttered. “You’re rubbing off on him.”

“As often as I can, but don’t change the subject. Our boy’s a reformed character, I’m thinkin’.”

“I ain’t!” Slit objected. “Just gotta live up to my change in fortunes. I’m earning a pretty penny on the side. Tryna look dignified.”

_Ah. This would be the time to broach the subject -_

“About that,” Jacob put down his paper and arched his back in a long-overdue stretch. “I think our business arrangement has reached a stage where we can consider renegotiation of our contract.”

Slit looked alarmed.

“ _Increasing_ your stake - ” Jacob went on.

“- _stake_ \- ” Cheedo snorted.

“Yes, thankyou – increasing your _stake_ to thirty percent – BUT - don’t get too excited. If you agree to this, profits _will_ fall by half.”

Slit doing mental arithmetic was a fine sight to behold. Happily, the doc took pity on him before he hurt himself.

“You’ll be better off, Slit. Works out to be fifteen percent.”

“Well, okay, that’s alright. That’s good.” Slit leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, looking suddenly wise, or as close as possible. “But what’s the catch? There’s gotta be a catch. Do I have to stop drinkin’ too?”

Jacob thought for a moment, then replied, “I feel that we would both benefit from a more equal balance of duties, inasmuch as that’s possible. It _would_ mean that there would be less _product_ to sell - ”

“Ew,” squeaked Nux. “If you mean what I think you mean, then – _ew_. Too much information.”

Slit narrowed his eyes. “You’re not talkin’ about drinkin’, are you?” he asked, warily. “’Cos we’d have to discuss that very seriously.”

“I most certainly am not. But, consider this - ” Jacob leaned forward and raised his eyebrows. “I’d make it worth your while. I graduated top of my class. I can get you a whole list of references. You wouldn’t regret it.”

“Top of the class, huh?” Slit turned his eyes to Max enquiringly.

“After my time. Wouldn’t know.”

“References?” Slit looked to the Captain.

“For the last time, Slit, _I never touched him -_ ”

“This is a very strange conversation - ” observed Giddy from behind her book.

“Y’know what? Yeah. I’ll do it.” And he spat in his hand and shook Jacob’s. “Wait - what did I agree to again?”

“He wants to jizz in you instead of a cup betimes,” Cheedo explained, waving a stuffed bunny at Petunia.

“It’s sound business practice,” Jacob nodded sagely.

“Oh.” Slit considered this. “Well, Bible says ask and you receive – ain’t that right, Shepherd?”

Giddy put down her book with a sigh. “I don’t think that’s _precisely_ what Saint Matthew was referring to but, yes, in this case – sure, why not?” She waved a tattooed hand helplessly.

*

By now they were sharing a room. It was purely out of necessity, since Toast wanted his infirmary back again and Slit would under no conditions relocate his guns from the so-called armoury to convert it to an additional cabin. His guns were very delicate and sensitive and who know how they would handle being cruelly evicted from their environment?

Besides, there was room for a second bunk in his quarters.

Jacob sighed and nodded. _So be it._ They could discuss business plans late into the night more easily if they shared a room.

Some nights it was pretty chilly too. It was the void of space after all, and the Rig was not the newest of ships. Just common sense, really.

*

“Can’t help but notice you haven’t made many landing trips alone lately?”

“No - ? Suppose I haven’t. Why d’you ask?”

“Well – not to pry or anything, but I remember when you liked a bit of variety in your – social – interactions?”

“Hmmm?”

“You had a man in every port, to put it bluntly,” Max raised an eyebrow, looking exasperated at having to spell it out.

Jacob sighed and made a face. “It’s just such a bother – you have to find one you like, and do the whole flirting thing, get variable quality, and _then_ you have to get away the next day without being rude. I don’t know if I’m getting old or something, but I’d rather just – well, Slit’s here and he’s - ” He trailed off, with a faraway smile that broke into a full-on grin at the memory of a recent –

His smile faded. He looked at Max in growing horror.

Max was _grinning_. Fuck that guy. Fuck him. Bastard.

 _Shit_.

*

“He keeps laughing at me. He’s not taking this seriously.” Jacob complained.

“Slit is – I know, I can hardly believe it myself – he’s very modest. You could go as far as to say his self-esteem is on the low side.”

“I don’t know _why_ ,” Jacob fumed. “I keep telling him he’s shiny and chrome. You’d think that would work. It’s getting ridiculous.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t think you’re making fun? You do have a kind of _pointed_ relationship.”

“Huh, tell me about it. I went down on one knee last night and he wrestled me to the floor. What’s a man gotta do?”

“How about you get him drunk and marry him? It worked last time.”

Now, _Max_ knew Furiosa was joking. But Jacob’s eyes brightened and he smiled dreamily as visions played out in his mind’s eye.

By the time she knew what she’d said, she knew it was already too late.

_These kids –_

*

And when the two of them went off in a shuttle one day with only the minimal indication of where they were going, Max and Furiosa resigned themselves to drama. One way or another.

Thirty-six hours later, an unfamiliar shuttle hailed them with a half-familiar voice.

“Captain Fury? I believe I’ve got something as belongs to you.”

And when the airlocks opened, it was none other than _Ace_ who stepped out. By rights he should’ve have each one of them by the ear. The whole scene just screamed ‘can you please keep your children under control?’

And indeed, it was Slit and Jacob – one with an impressive duck egg on their forehead and other literally carrying several teeth as trophies. And they both looked utterly delighted with themselves.

“Picked up these two in New Vegas. They’d been pulled up by the authorities for Causing a Fracas. Thought I’d drop them off since it’s been a while. Here’s the paperwork. You’ll be glad to hear the justice had a sentimental streak and let them off with a fine, under the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” Furiosa asked, weakly, sharing a glance with Max. She didn’t like the sound of this –

“Bein’ newlyweds an’ all.” Ace glared at the pair. “Congratulations, you flamin’ morons.”

Furiosa looked at the both of them with trepidation. Especially Slit. In case he didn’t know about this little detail. But no, he grinned proudly at his – his new husband. Who grinned back, revealing several more missing teeth.

Max’s jaw dropped. “You convinced him, then? How’d you manage that?”

“By standin’ me up in front of a Shepherd and readin’ out the vows!” Slit declared. “Like actual questions? _Do you take this man to yadayadayada?_ And standin’ there waitin’ and lookin’ at me all big-eyed? Can you imagine that? And the Shepherd there an’ all. So I figured he weren’t pullin’ my chain!”

“Awww. That’s actually quite - ” Furiosa turned the word over a few times, “ – romantic? Well. I don’t much know what to say – Max, put it out on the comm, willya? Wait, no – Ace, this is Max, Max – Ace. Max is - “

“That fella you were lookin’ for, right,” Ace nodded and stepped forward to shake his hand and Furiosa very nearly burst into tears at that very moment because she was so very proud and glad of her growing Rig family.

But she didn’t, because _Captain_. Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please wrap up this fic by listening to Ain’t That A Kick In The Head (Dean Martin). It’s not the reason this fic exists but it sure kept reminding me to write it
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=RDK7jgZTDLeIs&feature=share&playnext=1
> 
> And here’s a little moodboard that I think sums up this fic in pictures more or less:  
> https://kirkypet.tumblr.com/post/625787798957539328
> 
> My visual reference for Jacob was Norwegian actor Jakob Oftebro, who is actually a month older than Josh Helman but doesn’t look it
> 
> This fic references events in Firefly episodes ‘Jaynestown’ and ‘Ariel’ if you feel like checking them out.
> 
> I fully intended fitting in a nod to ‘Out of Gas’ too, which is probably my favourite episode by many astronomical units. But it’s one for a proper angst fic which this ain’t 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
